


Intense

by Belladonna803



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna803/pseuds/Belladonna803
Summary: Today's Auror training? Master theSupersensory Charm. Simple, right? Or....not.Written in honor of the lovely Shocolate's birthday. :)





	Intense

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

It had started out to be such an unextraordinary moment. Truly it had.

Auror training?  
 _Check._  
New Charm to master?  
 _Check._  
Ron at Harry's side?  
 _Mother fucking check._

Today's lesson was: get a handle on the Supersensory Charm. Pretty innocuous, at first glance. It was designed to heighten the senses, and potentially give you an edge when cornered, or when facing a hidden enemy in unfamiliar surroundings. Harry assumed that it'd be a bit tricky, maybe, but that overall, it'd just bring them one step closer to achieving full Auror status. Surely he and Ron had tackled shit of a higher degree of difficulty, right? Piece o'cake.

So how had things got so fucked up so fast?

Well, for starters, it turns out the Supersensory Charm isn't quite as easy to master as one might think. A person's body just isn't accustomed to taking in that much stimuli at one time, so the charm is practiced in a classroom setting, under Healer supervision, until such time as one feels comfortable enough with it to venture into a practical-use situation. Or in layman's terms: until you keep from throwing up and passing out.

There they were. Harry--wand out, feet firmly planted under his shoulders, knees slightly bent, and taking slow, steady breaths. Ron--about three paces behind him, wand out, and ready to cast a quick Cushioning Charm, should Harry go arse over elbow and see what the floor smelled like, first-hand.

The handful of other cadets were spaced around the room so that everyone had a wide berth, and the instructor, Braithwaite, gave out a few last minute orders.

"Spotters, watch your man for any sign of distress, and cancel the charm if you suspect they're going to fall." Braithwaite flicked his wand, conjuring a massive set of glowing red numbers, reading 0:00:00, which hovered in the air above their heads like giant watchful eyes. "All right, begin!"

The seconds started racing, and before the clock blinked a fiery :02, Harry'd muttered, " _Supersensorum_ ," and everything had gone to hell.

_RonBreathPulseTeethSkinWandRightThereCockLipsHandsOhMyGod!_ It was...Harry'd never...his nerve endings roared with AllOfRonRightThere...the room...the room had gone suddenly empty save the two of them...just them...it was...too much...but...GodItWasGood and he didn't...

Harry's legs trembled, but he tried to take it all in, tried to focus on each tiny particle of Ron that was connected to him by what seemed like thousands of gossamer threads. Ron’s wand, pointed in readiness at Harry’s midsection, had now seemingly grown in length to breach the distance between them. The wand tip traced back and forth against Harry’s lower back, moving in time with Ron’s breathing.

Though Ron hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing, Harry clearly felt Ron’s hot breath moistening his neck. Every inch of Ron's body was singing against Harry's nerve endings, magnifying every sensation by an unfathomable number.

Side-along Apparition and Portkeys had fused them together more times than Harry could remember, but this was a universe away from those laughable things. The tattoo of Ron's pulse against him, thronging along with Harry's racing blood. The bob of Ron's Adam's apple as he swallowed. The heat of Ron's thighs as they pressed into Harry's arse. The curled knot that was Ron's cock, nestled in the small of his back.

Amid the barrage of tactile sensation, Harry's brain was being completely thrown for a loop, because the feel of totally and completely being wrapped in Ron, like a second skin--Harry liked it. No, he didn’t just like it.

He really fucking liked it.

A very Hermione-like whisper in his head told him to focus, that it was just Ron. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Ron wasn’t _just_ Ron. That tiny whispering part of him wanted to end this madness and run away. But another part of him--most of him--wanted to turn around, walk the few paces to where Ron stood and—

Harry threw his face into his hands with such speed that the room began to spin.

“Easy, mate. I’m right here.”

Harry’s back snapped ramrod straight. RonsLipsOnMySkin...BreathInMyEar...want to...to...

The tiny whisper was back. "You love Ginny!" it said. His answer appeared like a billboard in his mind. _But I loved Ron first.  
_  
And it was true.

Harry’d lost count of the number of Stags he'd sent forth from the end of his wand using Ron’s image as fuel, and the few times in his wizarding life that he and Ron had fought and been estranged were some of the darkest that Harry had known. Ron, his best mate, his rescuer, his sword-wielder, his partner, his...his... _His._

It was all too much. The floor began to ripple, then churn violently like a stormy sea. Harry tried to speak, but his teeth felt as though they were cemented together. "F-f-f--" _UCK!_ his brain shrieked.

Ron stepped closer, sending a shock wave of stimulation, a vast sea of minuscule fingers caressing every nerve.

"F-f-fff-inite!" He bit out.

Harry felt, rather than heard Ron cancel the charm. The furnace blast of Ron's hands on him was the last thing he knew as his body sank to the rippling floor, and everything went dark.

~*~*~

"Harry! Harry! Open your eyes!"

Harry's skin was covered in a sheen of sticky sweat like he'd been running a marathon. He gulped down air, and stared up into Ron's worried eyes. _God, Ron._ He squeezed his lids shut tightly, focusing on breathing.

_Right. It's no big deal. It was just the charm. Everything's fine. Everything's just fine._

But everything wasn't fine. As a matter of fact, everything felt as far from fine as it was possible to get.

"Harry, c'mon mate, let's get you up." Ron hoisted him up onto wobbly legs, and lead him over to one of the benches that lined the wall behind them. Harry blanched at Ron's touch, but it went unnoticed, he supposed because he most likely looked like shit. The bench felt cold, even through his robes and trousers, and he sank onto it gratefully. He rested his forearms on his thighs and hung his head down, doing his best to act more tired than freaked out.

Ron clapped him on the back, and Harry jumped.

"Sorry."

Harry nodded.

"So, er, what was it like?"

How to answer that? Should he tell Ron that it'd been fucking amazing and fucking awful at the same time? That he'd come out of it wanting to...to... _Oh, bugger it all!_

Harry cleared his throat of the lump that had taken root there. "Intense." It was the first word that popped into his head, and was the utter truth, regardless of what else it'd been.

"All right, you lot," barked Braithwaite. "Spotters, it looks like group A is in no fit state to spot you today, so we'll pick this up again tomorrow."

Murmuring voices and shuffling footsteps told Harry that the room was emptying out. Part of him hoped that the floor would indeed turn to water and swallow him up as it felt like it would have done earlier. Another part of him wanted to run, to Apparate to wherever the fuck Ginny was right now and shag her brains out. And still another part of him wanted to go home to his and Ron's flat, with Ron, and shag _his_ brains out.

"Home," said Ron, dragging Harry to his feet. Harry felt so drained and confused. How on earth had one charm, one damned charm, done this to him? All the magic he'd performed, including two of the three Unforgivables, and _now_ something like this happened?

His brain was still rattled when Ron told him he would Apparate them both. Harry just nodded and slumped against him, breathing deeply as if trying to absorb Ron one molecule at a time. With a twist and a few lung-squeezing moments, Ron'd brought them home, and guided Harry to the sofa.

When Ron let go of him, Harry almost reflexively reached out to pull him back, but managed to stop himself just in time. This was madness. _Maybe some firewhisky could drown it._

"Ogden's," he heard himself say. His voice sounded thick, like he's just woken up from an extra long kip. Ron's footsteps retreated, and within a minute, Harry felt the glass being shoved into his hand. The bottle clinked noisily on the table in front of them as Ron plopped down beside him. Harry downed the burning liquid in one gulp and willed it to erase what had transpired.

As he felt the familiar heat wash down into his stomach, Ron spoke.

"I've never seen you like that before, Harry. Not even when--," but he didn't need to finish. Harry knew exactly what he was going to say. _Not even when your scar burned._

Harry didn't want to relive any of that shit again, by any stretch of the imagination. But what he wouldn't give for something to get his mind off this feeling, this--

"I want to do it."

Harry's head snapped to Ron so fast that his neck audibly cracked. Ron was breathing hard, the remnants of the firewhisky still clinging to his bottom lip, glistening in the dimly lit room. Ron sat his glass down next to the bottle and shifted to face Harry on the sofa.

"Are you mad?" Harry asked.

Ron licked his lips and Harry's stomach tightened.

"I want to know what it feels like. Right now."

For a second, Harry thought that Ron had meant _It_ it. Then it hit him that he meant the _charm_. "Ron, you can't! You'll get your chance tomor--"

"No. Now."

Harry met Ron's eyes and gulped. It was almost like he _knew_ somehow, like Ron had suddenly mastered Legilimency and could see directly into Harry's mind. He shook the absurd thought off, and argued again.

"Look, I'm in no fit state to spot you, what if something goes wrong and you get hurt?"

Ron stood and drew his wand, using it to slide the sofa table out of the way. "You won't let anything happen to me, Harry. I know you won't."

Heat that had nothing to do with firewhisky flushed Harry's skin. All arguments would be futile, he knew that. Harry knew it just as he knew that nothing save Obliviation could erase what had been drawn forth within himself. He nodded, drew his wand from his pocket, and stood on shaky legs.

Ron bobbed his head once, then raised his wand. " _Supsersensorum._ " Ron instantly lost his footing, and Harry stretched out his hand to steady him, but pulled back before their skin connected. Ron's eyes were shut tight, head thrown back, mouth open. Harry could hear his ragged breath and imagined what Ron was feeling.

On impulse, Harry shifted so that his open palm passed along Ron's zip. The reaction was immediate. Ron gasped and arched his back, stretching out to meet Harry's hand again. Harry's cock twitched in his trousers, hardly daring to believe what has happening. He grew bolder then, and turned his palm upwards like a cup. He opened and closed his fingers slowly as Ron's head thrashed from side to side.

Ron's eyes were open again and his gasps were growing louder. Harry's cock wept against his y-fronts, desperate for _something_ to happen, though he wasn't sure he could name it.

Ron lurched forward and raised his wand, and Harry could see that he was struggling to speak.

"Finite?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. A wave of selfishness washed over Harry as he stood with wand poised to act. After this, it would be over, and then where would they be? This moment would be gone, and Ron would be repulsed by what Harry had done.

After another moment's hesitation, Harry stepped forward, ready to catch Ron if he fell. " _Finite Incantatem_."

Within a split second, Ron's free hand reached out and clutched at Harry's outstretched arm. His eyes burned into Harry's, and Harry wanted to believe that what he saw there was a desire that matched Harry's own. Ron's weight shifted unsteadily, and Harry dropped his wand to grab him. Their faces were only a few inches apart now, each panting into the other's, eyes searching, seeking permission to move.

And then Ron's mouth was on his. Ron's fingers dug into Harry's scalp as their tongues met. It was clumsy, and their chins rubbed noisily against each other, but it was hot, and Harry could feel Ron's cock pressed tightly into his abdomen. Harry growled, pushing himself closer, desperate for that feeling of closeness that the charm had given him. He wanted to feel everything, all of Ron at once, everywhere.

Ron apparently wanted the same thing, because his hand stole down between them and ripped forcefully at Harry's belt buckle.

"More," he snarled, and Harry hastened to help him, fingers shaky and fumbling, and then Ron's cock sprang forth from his open zip. Harry palmed it, wrapping his fingers around Ron's shaft and tugging in his own favourite rhythm.

"God, that's--" growled Ron.

"Yeah." This was Ron, _his_ Ron, hard and throbbing in his hand and he, Harry, wanted it so badly.

"FUCK!" Harry shouted as his own cock was freed from his trousers. They bit at each other, both yearning to _feel_ as much as possible.  

Ron pulled Harry's hand away long enough to entwine his long fingers with Harry's, trapping their cocks inside tightly and jacking them off in earnest. Ron's balls slapped against Harry's with each thrust, which were growing more and more erratic. _Fuck yes!_

Harry came first, biting down hard on Ron's shoulder as their hands and bellies were splattered.

"Mother fuck!" Ron's hand slid in the slickness, and he soon followed Harry, shouting and arching his head back as more pearly thick come covered them.

They fell to the floor in a heap of limbs before rolling onto their backs, panting and staring up at the ceiling in silence. Harry was the first to break it.

"You still love Hermione." It wasn't a question.

"And you still love--" Ron didn't seem able to say her name.

Harry nodded. "I do. This," he said, gesturing between the two of them, but he faltered.

"Our secret?" Ron pleaded, but it didn't quite sound like a plea for Harry's silence.

Harry nodded again and turned his face into Ron's shoulder. "Our secret."


End file.
